Chapter 241: Episode 241

Chapter 65: The Rough Rock Tribe

The civil war in the Onais Kingdom raged on, leaving devastation in its wake. With only four territories remaining loyal to Count Dinen, the raiders who had fought for coin were now left as cold corpses on the battlefield. The unexpected arrival of S-rank raiders on the opposing side had cut the Count’s forces in half overnight.

“They say the tyrant’s momentum is unstoppable. His supply lines are apparently far more robust than anyone predicted.”

“His army is growing, too. With the tide of war turning so dramatically, the neutral nobles are flocking to the royal family’s side.”

“Where in the world did he hire S-rank raiders? He already has two superhumans. It is highly suspicious.”

As the conflict neared its climax, a palpable anxiety spread across the West. The tyrant had murdered the regent and seized the throne. The continent held its breath, waiting to see where he would turn his gaze next. Even the Raider’s Association was beginning to waver in its support for Count Dinen, and the rebellion’s chances of victory dwindled to nothing. The war in the Onais Kingdom was racing toward a conclusion that promised to bring even more chaos and change to the West.

—

[Bulletin]

’—Count Dinen Fails to Compensate Families of Fallen Raiders. How the mighty have fallen. The man once called the Liberator Lord shows his true colors.’

[Bulletin]

’—Movement Gate Enters Development with Full Support of the Magic Tower. How will this new technology differ from existing magic circles?’

[Bulletin]

’—Balak Territory Secures Trade Route; Balak Merchant Guild Makes Official Debut.’

News bulletins fluttered in the wind. A glance at the Association’s public board was enough to see how much the city of Partren had grown. Once a small town, it had blossomed into a bustling city. Though it operated autonomously since the death of Viscount Crowley, it had a new lifeline: Criras, the branch manager appointed after Gelix.

As the only branch manager to remain neutral during the civil war, Criras had earned the overwhelming support of the Partren raiders. He had astutely used the conflict as an opportunity to be the first to welcome the Balak Merchant Guild, a move that proved wildly popular.

’The Balak Merchant Guild does not just sell raider goods; it offers items forged within the dungeon itself. With demand for weapons high and supply chains crippled by the war, the dwarves’ iron-smithed equipment is bound to be a massive success!’

War inevitably led to a shortage of iron and other materials. As a result, even master blacksmiths who had consistently produced high-quality gear found their forges growing cold.

Releasing dungeon-forged equipment at a time like this was guaranteed to draw raiders in droves.

“Step right up, folks! Take a look!” a merchant bellowed from his stall. “Fresh from the Balak Merchant Guild! This is the real deal, genuine articles! See for yourselves!”

That day, like every day since the guild’s arrival, merchants lined the streets, laying out their wares and calling to the crowds. The value of dwarven equipment was already an established fact in Partren, and raiders searching for new gear could not help but be drawn in.

There was, however, one exception.

“Tch. What’s so great about dungeon-supplied gear that everyone’s losing their minds?” Meritz grumbled. Having recently settled in Partren, she was already filled with complaints. She had built her life as a raider in the south, fueled by a deep-seated hatred for the demon race. The sight of merchants peddling equipment forged by their kind was enough to make her stomach churn. Regretting her move to the west, Meritz turned and headed back to the inn.

“Oh? Back already?” a cheerful voice greeted her. “You were talking a big game about buying new equipment, but you’ve come back empty-handed.”

“Mind your own business,” Meritz snapped. “Anyway, what’s that in your hand?”

“Ah, this!” Alisha beamed, holding up a new blade. “The merchants were selling it, so I just had to grab it. What do you think? Looks pretty good, right?”

“It certainly does,” Meritz admitted begrudgingly. For a swordswoman like Alisha, a blade was everything, and the one she held was clearly a cut above the usual flashy, insubstantial weapons. A genuine smile touched Alisha’s lips as she ran a hand along the scabbard.

“You know, they say this was crafted by the dwarves of Balak,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “To create something of this quality from low-grade iron ore… isn’t it incredible?”

“Haa’… So it’s dungeon equipment,” Meritz sighed, her admiration instantly souring. “Alisha, you know how much I despise the demon race. Why would you show this to me?”

“Ta-da!” Alisha declared, ignoring her friend’s protest. “I didn’t just get one for myself. I got one for you, too! Here, try it on.”

She placed an oval shield on the table between them. Meritz’s face contorted into a deep scowl, but her curiosity won out, and she leaned forward to inspect its information.

[Rough Rock Tribe’s Oval Shield]

[Rank: B]

[Restriction: Level 40 or higher, Knight and Shield Bearer classes]

[Description: A Rare-class oval shield. Personally crafted by the dwarves of Balak, this shield significantly increases block success rate when equipped. It also increases the wearer’s Durability by 2.]

As expected of dwarven craftsmanship, the effects were astounding. It reduced the usual penalties while doubling the enhancements—a world apart from ordinary equipment. Meritz’s jaw dropped before she caught herself and straightened up.

“Hmph. It’s not that great,” she scoffed. “It’s just ridiculously large, and the effects are nothing special. Why did you waste your money on this?”

“Hehe. Meritz, your hand is already reaching for it,” Alisha teased.

“…I’m only accepting this because it’s a gift from you,” Meritz muttered, snatching the shield. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’ll still be using my old one most of the time.”

“Yes, yes, I get it,” Alisha chirped, grabbing her friend’s arm. “Now let’s go test out our new gear!”

“Alisha, did you hear a word I just said—hey! Stop dragging me!”

—

[You have entered Heimdal.]

Heimdal, once a C-rank dungeon made famous by bus raid parties, had since grown to B-rank, consistently drawing raiders from across the territory.

“Why did it have to be a Balak dungeon?” Meritz complained. “There are plenty of others.”

“But it’s easiest to build up achievements in Balak’s dungeons,” Alisha countered. “There aren’t many low-rank dungeons left in the west, and this place is way better than the others. Besides, look! Look at those adorable little teddy bears!”

A pack of Bearbears scampered across a colorful hill. Alisha, who had an incurable weakness for cute things, was practically vibrating with excitement.

’I knew this would happen,’ Meritz thought with a sigh. ’Still, it is a B-rank dungeon. Might as well give it a try.’

Though they were only a duo, they were undeniably high-tier B-rank raiders. With Meritz serving as the shield, Alisha was free to focus her firepower. Meritz charged a Bearbear that had strayed from the pack.

“Bearbear?!” it squeaked, startled, before launching a counterattack.

A sharp clang echoed as she blocked the blow, but her stance didn’t budge an inch. It was definitely a B-rank monster, yet the impact was far weaker than she had anticipated.

’It’s not just the block rate; the durability itself is incredible,’ she realized. ’At this rate…!’

If this shield was more efficient than her old one, there was no reason to hesitate. Blocking a flurry of kicks from the Bearbear, she saw her opening and lunged.

[You have used Shield Bash.]

[Excellent effect!]

[The Lustful Bearbear loses its balance.]

“Alisha!” Meritz yelled.

“I was waiting for it!” Alisha cried back.

Years of fighting side-by-side meant she needed no other signal. Meritz quickly fell back, creating an opening for her partner. Alisha’s blade flashed forward, piercing the Bearbear and inflicting a fatal wound.

The creature collapsed, killed instantly by a single critical hit. Alisha, who had been preparing a follow-up strike, stared down at her sword in bewilderment.

“I… I just killed it in one hit, right?”

“My god,” Meritz breathed. “What kind of weapon did you buy?”

“I told you, it’s Balak-made gear. But even I never imagined it would be this powerful.”

“…Let’s fight a few more,” Meritz decided. It could have been a fluke, a lucky shot to a weak point. To be certain, they swept through the area, cutting down one monster after another. The forest echoed with the dying cries of Bearbears as their achievements steadily piled up. With how easily the monsters fell, they were earning Zen far faster than they had expected.

Another Bearbear fell with a heavy thud. Between the two of them, they had killed well over a hundred. Meritz turned to Alisha, her expression one of pure disbelief.

“We’re not dreaming, are we?”

“I don’t think so,” Alisha replied, just as stunned.

—

As the Balak Merchant Guild began its tour of the continent, the dwarven equipment sold out almost instantly. Starting with Partren, the first city to welcome them, the gear was rapidly distributed throughout the Kaios Kingdom, the Degener Kingdom, and the Petabrix Empire. The items were so valuable that lords personally intervened to secure contracts. The established continental merchant guilds scrambled to compete, but it was a futile effort. Balak’s influence was already spreading like wildfire from the west. Their dungeon-exclusive carriages, pulled by wyverns, were impossibly fast, capable of reaching any territory that requested contact in record time.

“You’re still using that old thing?” one raider scoffed at another in a tavern. “Get with the times. Alstein’s equipment is ancient history. Look at this.”

“You’re kidding me! How are the restriction penalties so low? And the effects are twice as good as what I’m wearing!”

“These days, you can’t even get into a good raid party if you’re not wearing Balak-made gear,” the first raider advised. “Get to Partren. It’s the biggest distribution hub.”

As word of mouth spread, dwarven equipment became an absolute necessity for any serious raider. The Balak Merchant Guild expertly monopolized the market by releasing limited quantities, only increasing the supply after securing favorable contracts. It was during this time that Momont Anslake visited the small city of Myol, met personally with Guild Master Kobel, and secured an exclusive deal.

The supplies were destined for Count Dinen’s faction. Momont invested nearly a hundred million Zen to equip thousands of hired raiders, a move that earned him the Count’s unwavering trust. Gelix, who had always been at Dinen’s side, was unceremoniously pushed into the background.

“You’ve done a great service,” Count Dinen praised Momont. “It pains me to line that bastard Taehyun Yoo’s pockets, but it’s true that we’ve bought ourselves more time. Once this civil war is over, I’ll guarantee you a high position!”

“I will serve you with even greater loyalty, Count Dinen!” Momont declared with a bow.

Gelix watched from the side, the sound of his grinding teeth lost in the celebratory atmosphere.

Unaware that Momont was a double agent, Count Dinen began plotting his triumphant comeback.

—

A sizzle of steam rose as quenched steel was pulled from the water. The heat in the forge was nearly unbearable, but the blacksmith didn’t so much as frown as he began to hammer the metal.

The clang of his hammer echoed rhythmically as the material slowly began to take shape. It was all part of the process. Wiping sweat from his brow, the man continued his work, only to be interrupted when someone burst in from outside.

“Alstein! This is no time for that! Come quickly, you have to see this!” It was Makson, the blacksmith from the neighboring forge. He grabbed Alstein’s arm and dragged him next door.

“What’s all the commotion?” Alstein grumbled. “I’m swamped supplying equipment for the war. I don’t have time for this.”

“Gods, man, you need to keep up with the news,” Makson retorted. “You’ve been cooped up in here for so long, you have no idea what’s going on. Just look at this!”

“Ugh, what kind of weapon could possibly cause such a fuss—What is this?!” The moment he took the sword, he felt it. The impossible lightness, the flawlessly forged lines, the razor-sharp edge. This was no ordinary craftsmanship. Alstein turned the blade over and over, his expression a mask of disbelief. No matter how closely he inspected it, he could not find a single flaw.

“Wh-where did you get this?!”

“It’s the new dwarven gear from the Balak Merchant Guild,” Makson explained grimly. “Our businesses are in shambles because of it. The iron supply was already cut, and now we’re on the verge of starvation.”

The dwarves, the underground race blessed by the god of fire. With their skills, monopolizing the equipment market was more than possible. Alstein stared at the sword for a long moment before bolting back to his own forge.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Makson called after him.

“I’m going to Balak!” Alstein shouted back. “Don’t try to stop me!”

“What are you talking about? Are you hoping to learn their techniques?!”

“My reputation is nothing compared to theirs,” Alstein declared, his voice ringing with conviction. “I will join Balak and become their disciple! The path of learning is endless. I will have no regrets, even if it means serving a demon!”

As he spoke, a name shimmered into view on the blade he still held.

’Roland.’

But Alstein, his eyes already fixed on the horizon, set off on his journey without ever seeing the master’s name engraved in magic upon the steel.

—

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep